


What Is Known To Three

by honey_wheeler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Double Penetration, F/M, Future Fic, Multi, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 05:25:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12381792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: It’s all Robb will allow himself, no matter that they all know he wants more. It’s easier for Jon. He’s merely Sansa’s once-brother. It’s a distinction that allows him to pretend everything is different. Robb has no such luxury; Sansa’s brother he’ll remain, no matter what goes between them. The three of them.





	What Is Known To Three

**Author's Note:**

> For the thekinksidoforlove kinkmeme prompt: Jon/Robb/Sansa threesome+ dp+anal

It’s all Robb will allow himself, no matter that they all know he wants more. It’s easier for Jon. He’s merely Sansa’s once-brother. It’s a distinction that allows him to pretend everything is different. Robb has no such luxury; Sansa’s brother he’ll remain, no matter what goes between them. The three of them.

“Robb,” Sansa whimpers, her brow screwed up in an agony of pleasure. “Robb, please.” She leans back against his chest, letting him take her weight as he sits with her kneeling backwards astride him. Her hair straggles down her cheeks and chest, pasted to her skin with sweat, and scarlet patches bloom at her belly and knees and cunt as she strains for something she can’t quite seem to reach. Little about her at the moment could truly be called pretty, but she’s the loveliest thing Jon has ever seen.

“There’s a girl,” Robb pants, holding her hips steady with one hand and petting her cunt with the other, his fingers delving into her the way his cock pushes into her arse, with slow, shallow strokes. “Oh, sweetling, you feel so good.” His cock would be in the place of his fingers if he could but let go of the things that keep him tethered to the past, but then, Jon supposes, he wouldn’t be Robb if he could do such a thing.

Jon long ago severed that tether, for ill or good. Now he waits impatiently for his turn, knowing he’ll fuck Sansa long and hard, the way they both want it most.

She’s never been satisfied with this bargain of Robb’s. She’s fought about it with him, the two of them arguing with raised voices over how he should fuck his own sister, of all things. Mostly Jon has been surprised that Robb’s never given in. Always before he had a soft spot for Sansa, able to deny her nothing when they were younger. Jon and Sansa have spoken but little of it privately, but he knows she’s been surprised – and wroth – as well. Of all the times for Robb to show forbearance, this is hardly the most sensible one. “As if buggering my arse is much different than fucking my cunt,” she’d grumbled once, astonishing and delighting Jon with her vulgar language so much that he’d tumbled her to her bed right then. 

Not for the first time, he feels a pang of pity for Robb. Jon learned long ago that honor meant little when compared to the feel of a welcoming woman. 

“More.” Sansa’s voice verges up into a whine. “It’s not enough, I want… I need _more_.” She’s a picture of need, of raw, inchoate desire. How Robb can resist, Jon has no idea. He’s nearly ash himself, his cock so hard it’s painful, only growing more so when Sansa covers Robb’s hand with hers to rub faster, harder, her voice sounding almost like she’s sobbing as she begs. 

Robb’s eyes flick to Jon’s over Sansa’s shoulders and all at once, Jon knows what they all need. It’s much like the moments of communion they shared as boys, each of them knowing the other’s thoughts without speaking a word. Slowly, Robb eases back, careful not to dislodge himself as he takes Sansa with him to a lying position. Jon moves too quickly for thought; this is a bridge they’ve never crossed, a transgression greater than any they’ve undertaken before. It wouldn’t do to let any of them dwell too much upon it. Not when he knows it’s something they all want dearly.

Still, when he’s positioned himself between Robb’s outstretched legs, Sansa’s knees hooked over his arms with Robb still deep inside her, and the wet warmth of her so close to his cock he could weep, he stops. She’s had too much taken from her for Jon to ever dream of presumption.

“Alright, San?”

Her eyes flutter open. There’s a wicked gleam of satisfaction there and Jon has to laugh at how skillfully she’s manipulated them.

“Get on with it then,” she tells him, the tearful begging gone from her voice, replaced by smug playfulness. Jon rewards her brass with a kiss, stroking his tongue over hers as he slides his cock inside her.

“Gods.” Robb’s voice echoes Jon’s in uttering the oath. Sansa only makes a wordless sound. Jon had never dreamed, he’d never imagined how such a thing could feel.

“Fuck, I can _feel_ you,” Robb grits out. Each stroke is a marvel; Jon feels the wet heat of Sansa’s cunt, the movement of Robb’s cock in her arse, the contact of skin and flesh between all three of them, as if they could never be closer than this. Jon feels Sansa go limp, submitting fully to the two of them with a dazed, euphoric look on her face. If it feels so good for them, he can only wonder at how it feels for her.

None of them last long. Robb goes first, stiffening and jerking into Sansa with a hoarse shout. This is why he won’t take her cunt, Jon knows, so as not to father a child on her when he spills in her. There’s a certain irony to it; once Jon had refused to lie with a woman for near the same reasons. Now he moves his hand between them to touch Sansa with skillful fingers, leaning down to whisper in her ear all manner of tender filth. Now, when she shakes apart with her peak and he lets himself follow her in crisis, he tells her how much he wants to get a babe upon her and see the little family they’ve made grow. The thought of Sansa pregnant with his child only makes him spill all the harder.

It’s more work than usual to disentangle themselves so they may lie together in a boneless heap, sated and depleted. Always before, it has been Jon and Robb sharing Sansa, taking turns to lie with her. Jon doesn’t think they’ll be able to go back to such simple pleasures. Not when they know what the three of them can be together.

“Look at her,” Robb says, warm affection plain in his voice. He props his head on one hand, smiling down at Sansa, one finger tracing idle circles around the peak of her breast. Normally Sansa would lean into his touch, or else bat his hand away for tickling, but she only lies quiescent, submissive in a way that Jon would think unsettling if he didn’t find it so potently arousing.

“Who knew this was all it took to render her speechless,” Jon teases. Her hand twitches feebly, as if she would swat him, had she the strength.

“I did,” she mumbles happily. “I knew.”

Robb and Jon chuckle in tandem, each of them leaning in to kiss her in turn.

“You always were the smartest of us,” Robb says.


End file.
